


Icarus Rising

by Fyredrake20



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: Continuation on the original myth, I Just Love Icarus, Icarus Dyant, Rebirth, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Rise again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26999077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyredrake20/pseuds/Fyredrake20
Summary: Everyone knows the story of Icarus. He was warned not to fly too high or too low, but in his (supposed) hubris, he got too close to the sun. The wax of his wings melted, and he fell to his...Death?Apparently, the story didn't end there. This explores Icarus' life after his legendary fall and is return to the skies.
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a WIP that I will be adding to when I have time. My main project right now is TAZ: Bonds. I have bits and pieces of this written, so I will always have something to update to this. If I miss a week over there, there will most likely be something over here. Sorry for any inconvenience!

Icarus’ faculties returned to him one by one. First he could hear. There were the sounds of waves on sand. Some birds far away, squawking at each other. Wind rushing against the ground, against his hair. He could hear the world around him. 

Then he could smell. He smelled the salt of the ocean somewhere nearby. That smell made him happy, but he couldn’t quite remember why. He could smell the wet sand of the beach around him. There was also a strong iron smell around him, that he didn’t want to think about right now. That could come later. For now, he would experience the world again. 

After smell came taste. Taste was a strange sensation to regain, because it meant that you had been missing it. He tasted the grit of sand in his mouth, of small stones on his tongue. They crunched as he moved his jaw slowly, trying to feel what else he was capable of sensing. There was more iron that came with the return of taste. It was sharp and metallic. It shocked Icarus into focus, preparing him for what came next. 

Because what came next was feeling. He could feel the sand beneath his hands and feet, in his ears and between his toes. It coated every inch of him. It stuck to him like a clingy child, not letting go for anything. But that was not the feeling that shocked him so. Because with feeling came pain. And Icarus was nearly overrun with pain when it came back to him. 

There was no part of his body that didn’t feel pain in that moment. Some parts felt battered, like he had been run over by a stampede of oxen. Others felt sharp and piercing, as though he had been impaled by a spear. His head hurt the most. It pounded in time with his heartbeat, a rhythmic thudding of pain that felt like it encompassed all things. Every beat shattered any attempted thought as though it was glass, fracturing any hope of remembering why he was in this situation. All Icarus knew now was pain. 

Until the final sense came back to him. When sight returned, the pain faded into the background. Through his eyelids, he saw the soft light of sunrise. He managed to force open one eye, and was able to take in the sight around him, and see what had happened. 

As he had guessed, he was on a beach. But not just on a beach.  _ In _ a beach. He lay in a crater in the sand that expanded outwards from him for about ten feet. The tide was going out, leaving the beach smooth and calm. There were a few shells that had been revealed, as though waiting for someone to come and claim them. The sun had just begun to peek up over the horizon, soft golden light barely illuminating the world. 

The only thing that damaged this image of calm was the wreckage. There were pieces of wood scattered across the beach, some broken and splintered, others seemingly intact. Most of them had some sort of bolts or bindings attached to them, and the ones that were the strangest were covered in a strange material that Icarus couldn’t quite place, until he looked around a little more. 

He breathed in, then out deeply. He pushed the pain out from his mind, and propped himself up on his elbow to get a better view of the wreck. He needed to know what had happened here. He had always been curious, and if he could figure out how he had gotten here, maybe he could get home. 

It was then that he realized what the material coating the wooden planks were. Because he saw the final piece of the puzzle. It was wax that had been used to attach the feathers to his wings. It all clicked into place at once, and Icarus collapsed back into a heap in the crater. The crater that he now remembered that he had made when he fell from the sky. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one this time

Flying was the best feeling that he had ever experienced. Throughout his life, he had always felt restricted, limited in what life had offered him. When he wanted to run, he was told that he could not leave the small building where he and his father were forced to stay. When he wanted to speak, he was told that he mustn't be too loud, or the guards would become angry and punish them. 

But in the sky, there was no such thing as “can’t”. He could fly high up, then dive fast down, feeling the rush of wind against his face. He could feel his hair being pulled back by the momentum of the fall, and the pull in his gut as he pulled back up from his dive. He could laugh as loud as he wished, and there was nobody to tell him that he couldn’t. Other than his father, but he was far enough behind that any warnings were lost to the distance. And Icarus could just say that he couldn’t hear him. Nothing could be blamed on him. 

Icarus had rarely been allowed to go outside before their escape. He didn’t quite understand why, but it had something to do with his father knowing something that the king didn’t want to get out. Something about a monster and a maze. Icarus didn’t care enough to dig deeper into that specific mystery. He had plenty of other things to occupy his attention. Like the inventions, his father worked on. 

He had always loved the sun. In the few moments when he had been permitted to go out on the terrace of their small home, he would hold his arms out and raise his face towards the sky and bask in its glorious heat. He thought that the feel of it against his skin was the best feeling he would ever know. He could never imagine that he would eventually know the sensations of soaring through the sky like a bird. 


End file.
